


The Best Award

by stochs (ashcuddles)



Category: Ski Jumping RPF
Genre: M/M, Planica 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashcuddles/pseuds/stochs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter wins Kamil's smile and they let the world know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Award

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea, but they give me a lot of feels.  
> Also this is my first published work. Yay?  
> Enjoy your reading (:

His hair is damp from the chilly fog enveloping the place, but he doesn't really care because it will be his turn soon and he's got more important things to focus on. Like trying to make his mind blank, which was usually so easy - he could do it in a split second - but seemed impossible today. Peter knows exactly why, yet he pushed the thought aside a while ago, so it's just buzzing somewhere in the back of his head. His leg is twitching slightly, so he tries to steady it by leaning forward on his elbows, supporting his chin while doing so. He doesn't succeed, not entirely, but stays in that position nonetheless. The chatting of his ski jumping mates is muffled (he learned to zone out of it) and his eyes keep slipping to one person in particular, who is currently smiling broadly at something Bardal said. Peter can swear he felt a small pang of jealousy for a moment, so he cuts the staring and focuses on the wooden floor instead.

»Peter, you have to get ready.« His stomach lurches, but he nods with a blank face, already pulling on his white and green jumping suit. He catches Kamil's wide smile that literally lights up his whole face and jesus, he can't do this right now. It's a big day so Peter can't afford to fuck up. He just flashes a small smile in the Polish competitor's direction and then sets off for the inrun, determined as ever, even though his insides are almost trembling.

It feels like home, sitting above this huge crowd of people cheering endlessly; it's safe and familiar. After fixing his helmet a bit, he looks over to the coach and nods slightly as a sign that he's ready, more than ever. Everything dissolves into one big blurry picture the moment Goran's flag goes down and his hands automatically push him off the desk. The feeling of raw, icy snow under his skis fades into the pure ecstasy of flying, catching the wind, breathing in the chilly morning air. Stains of green and red and blue are scattered over his view and he smiles internally, because he knows how many fans there are waiting, despite the unpleasant weather. It's as if he suddenly grew wings and is now floating effortlessly in mid-air, but then he lands and the crowds erupts in screams of pure joy when the blues, reds and whites of slovenian flags envelop him in a warm, domestic hug. He's so utterly happy he almost forgets to check the numbers, but - oh! He can't stop the smile creeping up on his face because man, he beat the record! It's like he put the last cherry on top of his cream this season, and he is quite proud of himself, walking over to the leader's space for what feels like a hundredth time.

It comes back to him again while he's zipping up the team's jacket, all of it. Now that he's back on the concrete, he feels his knees go weak again. Freund is already getting ready, which means Kamil's next and he has to steady himself by leaning on the fence. His attempts to wipe the feelings off his mind seem pointless now, because his heart hurts when he thinks of him. It's still a bit weird, even after a good part of the ski jumping season, but... weird in a good way, he guesses. Peter is rather famous for never showing his emotions and there's a reason behind it. He learned soon after his career started to rise that he needs a protection, a wall; something that would keep him safe from all the shit that's getting turned in this business. And after all this time, he's gotten so used to it that only Kamil's capable of bringing out his feelings temporarily.

He flinches back into reality when Freund's results are up and he's third, Peter beat him, his fellows are going crazy, his teammates could be seen in the distance, wide smiles and sparkly eyes, but his are focused on the white hill, a small moving dot settling up on the desk already.

Kamil.

When the Pole sets off, he clutches the fence and realizes that he wants Kamil to beat him. He genuinely wishes he would fix the record and come running to him with that broad smile of his, all crinkly-eyed and excited.

But he jumps, and it's obvious. His fans let out a collective groan when the black four shows up instead of the expected 1, while Peter's stomach takes a leap and he almost crumbles down. He'd rather be second, or third even, just to have Kamil stand on the podium with him. There is a certain nervousness bubbling up inside of him; he has to go there alone? No, that's not right, is it? But- "Darling," a soft voice from behind startles him so much he turns around in one jump. He knows who's there, though. he knew it all along.

»Kamil, I...« he starts, but the smaller boy just shakes his head and catches Peter's hand, squeezing it slightly to reassure him. He tries his best to cover up the bitter smile because he doesn't want to ruin his boyfriend's happiness and the way worry is slowly building up in Peter's eyes – it's just wrong and Kamil wants to kiss his little frown away so bad. But they've made a decision and he doesn't want to screw it up like he did with his jump. »Peter, don't worry yourself, I'll be fine. Just go and be happy, you deserved this.« There's a genuine smile on his face when he looks up to Peter's eyes and makes his boyfriend all wobbly, like so many times before. It's not okay, not at all, because the younger boy has to compose himself for the medal ceremony and... and the thing after. So he shoots Kamil one last warm look and follows a random member of his crew to the landing.

There's already a podium and a fake red carpet leading to it, but his head is full of ear-splitting screams coming from the crowd that's apparently truly gone crazy by now. The atmosphere is, despite the rain, amazing, and he loves it with every bit of his heart. The time passes in a blur, so suddenly he finds himself on the top of winner's podium, first tones of Zdravljica blasting out through the valley. He feels the tears prickle in the corner of his eyes but he draws them back in with one furious blink, for it was not the time for crying... yet.

It doesn't help his emotional state to stand on the podium again for the overall flying, but he manages to not crumble. He doesn't know how, yet he does and he's trembling slightly but it's okay, he's used to it. There's always been a lot of pressure; they warned him before he started and he accepted it, so he has to be brave now. He has to be brave, for himself and for Kamil, because now he's gonna be the one listening to polish anthem and Peter is so happy for him he could never find the right words to say it. But he doesn't have to. Love is built on action, isn't that what they say? The corners of his mouth twitch upwards at the sight of smiling Pole, crinkles by his eyes more prominent than ever, reminding him of the fact that he's already 26.

While standing there, on the podium, for the third time, he has eyes only for Kamil, who, unlike himself, doesn't hold back. Silent tears are sliding down his cheeks and he gapes a little when he finally gets to hold the big crystal globe. Peter wants to comfort him, wipe the tears off, soothe his back, but all he can do at that moment is to appreciate him, appreciate his sincerety, his tears of joy and the smiles he steals from him every now and then. »Congratulations, love,« he mouths in his direction and Kamil offers him the prettiest of smiles in return; Peter thinks it's the best award he ever got and will ever get.

When the anthem dies down, he finds his heart beating somewhere down in his stomach. He sees Kamil looking around frantically in attempt to find a mic or anything, really. His eyes spot someone waving in the first row, so he shoves his awards into an unknown guy's face and runs off to get whatever he needs. The audience resigns to whispering and creates a soft background, but soon a certain voice effortlessly quiets them down. »Hello, it's Kamil,« his strong accent echoes through the place and people are obviously curious to know what the best ski jumper at the moment's got to tell. »First off, thank you for your support, it means the world to me. Dziękuję!« Polish flags raise even higher and a few people scream things in their language, which make Kamil smile. »And second... there's a special someone who has been there for me ever since the beginning of this season. I usually keep my personal life for, well, myself, but this is something slightly different and it feels right to tell you. If anything, for those out there who have trouble accepting themselves – it's okay to be who you are! You should never be ashamed of that, because you have the right to be your true self.« Peter feels a hot tear roll down his cheek, but his arms are too heavy, and the look Kamil's giving him is so full of emotions he wants to run into his arms right then. Instead, he sees him walking over painfully slowly, bearing the questioning looks of a few thousand-headed crowd. Seconds go by but it feels like minutes, until finally his love is standing right there before him. He steps on the podium, still good 10 centimeters smaller than Peter and wraps his arms around the younger boy's waist, drawing him as close as he can.

»I love you.«

It's nothing more than a whisper, but the crowd seems to be holding its breath, as if all of their assumptions are the same. Peter turns off his surroundings and leans down, brushing their noses together for a moment and then colliding their lips in a slow kiss. His hand sneaks up to Kamil's cheek and cups it gently in an especially innocent manner that earns them a few girly squeals. Peter feels his boyfriend smile through the kiss and decides to end it by nipping at his bottom lip for a moment and then carefully looking up, only to find a colorful mix of emotions.

»I love you too, Kamil,« he whispers, giving him one last quick peck on the lips and then turns around, his arm still wrapped around the smaller boy's shoulders. »Yeah, I love him.« Only the ones close to them can properly hear him, but others can easily suppose what he said, so he doesn't care.

Because he has _him_.


End file.
